Chapter 8: Blues Power





     "Januzzi, where've you been all night?" Jyz bays over the thrum of Johny Henry and the Hammers hammering out their last song. "Your girl was up there on congas."

"Never mind that, where's our stereo?," I blurt, yanking the sleeve of his tee stretched over a bulging biceps.

"Get Burkhardt!" he roars, striding around the band stand to the side door of the stone fraternity house.




     Where I'd been was out with Deb Lew and Josie at the Phi Kap house. After being jilted again by FM, I'd made us screwdrivers while sneaking peeks at them pulling on jeans and camisoles, brushing hair, and choosing boots. I even helped out with the makeup by dabbing a little eye black on lower lids, a trick I'd learned as the softball trainer. By the time they were ready, it was getting a little hot in that dorm room.

     Then they'd taken me by the arms and wizard-stepped across campus, the three of us belting "follow the yellowbrick road". I'd stopped at the sound of a crowd when we hit the front yard, but they pulled me in and deposited me at the edge of the dance floor. My racing mind calmed at the sight of two strong women getting down to Green Grass and High Tides, though my heart may have sped up a beat or two. Soon one of the brothers, a friend from freshmen dorm, put his arm around my shoulder and led me to the bar, drawing us cups of weak but cheap Busch beer. It was a good night until midnight when I remembered that FM had skipped out, so I ducked out for home.

     Heading back across the now darkened campus, I thought I saw a big black bird perched on the roof gable of Jeff-Frank Hall, but then the Delta Ep house came into view and the band was winding down. I went for the stereo room to be ready to switch over to records, and that's when I discovered the missing components.




     "What's our system doing in your van?" Jyz demands of a roadie loading the band's equipment on top of our turntable, amplifier, and speakers.

"Uh, yeah," a young Black man pleas, holding up his hands as the three of us leer in. "Thought they was ours."

"What's going on out here!" booms the lead singer trailing the three other band members, all large men with towering afros.

"Seems your guy was packing up our stereo," Jyz begins while Burkhardt and I jump in and start carrying out the huge speakers.

"Lookee there, he just made a mistake," Johnny laughs as the others slip a hand into a pocket.

"Well Johnny, you've got two choices," Jyz gambles, sounding calmer than he is. "Pass back that check or we call the cops."

"Damn show's on us," Johnny sighs as I hurry by with the tuner, glancing up just in time to see FM glaring down from the balcony door.





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